


This Yellow Spill of a Soulstain

by SilverCeleb



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous Relationships, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Men Crying, Mild Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Open Relationships, Past Character Death, Platonic Sex, Post-Marineford, Rare Pairings, Self-Destruction, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, unresolved and undefined one sided sexual attraction to parental figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverCeleb/pseuds/SilverCeleb
Summary: “We both know neither of us are pirates like that.”But they were pirates, and all pirates understood what it was like to live at a place beyond what society considered normal, healthy and appropriate. If Marco wanted this Benn had no more right to say no for him than he had the right to say yes.Local pineapple needs an intervention. Benn provides ugly truths and consolation prizes.
Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Benn Beckman, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco & Shirohige | Whitebeard | Edward Newgate, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Benn Beckman, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 30





	This Yellow Spill of a Soulstain

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, it took me like maybe ten years to write this? I got this vague idea of Benn taking care of Marco after Marineford back when the events were still fresh and everyone was writing fanfic of it, but did I write anything? No.
> 
> Ah well, years later we get this, and I'm sort of happy that I let this idea develop for some more time, I don't think I was ready to handle these themes back then. Stuff like how grief is a complicated thing, and how mourning is not what we want it to be. And that it's cool to both cry and look bad, to lose face and lose a fight. I also selfishly like to think how sometimes you have people around you ready to care. Hmm, maybe I'm still too much of a baby to really get what I want to say with this.
> 
> OH and btw I made a decision to leave Marco's verbal tic out of the text. Feel free to imagine a few "yoi"s in here and there if that's your thing. It felt awkward to me and since I'm the writer I get to edit this how I want to.
> 
> See end notes for further content warnings.

_sun pours out of us both_

_we are cracked like morning_

_this yellow spill of a soulstain reveals only_

_truth - half truth - lie_

_hidden from us in the waves is our secret_

_i’m not a sun not a moon not the tide not reflection of you_

_but my own person masquerading_

_as an extension of you_

* * *

  
  
  


“I need your help.”

The railing of the Red Force drew a definitive line between Benn and the eternal nature of the sea. The voices of both Red Hair pirates and their guests filled the evening with white noise. It had been four days since the Battle of the Marineford, and for the first time since hearing about the execution of Ace Shanks came to ask help from his first mate.

It took some willpower from Benn not to sigh, but luckily he had some.

“Somehow I’m not surprised. What did you do this time?”

“It’s not about me.”

“I see the world has ended”, Ben teased with dry humor. 

Shanks didn’t react. And when Shanks doesn’t respond to teasing, Benn knows something is off. Normally he would be able to guess, but with the way last however many days had treated them, there were really too many options.

He waited, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. Shanks would speak in time.

“When my captain died… It was a mess”, he began eventually and Benn felt something uneasy settle in his stomach.

The death of Roger was not mentioned often.

“We were aching, but on fire too, ready to take on the entire world. It was a victory to us, in a way. They lost, Benn, they lost so bad, and back then I couldn’t help uncle Ray and now I can’t help Marco. He won’t eat or sleep, and he won’t listen, that stupid ass just can’t fit it in his head that the world didn’t end with his captain and I don’t know how to help him!”

Shanks ended his rant with a punch on the ship’s wooden railing, riled up enough to hit with too much force and distracted enough to break his skin.

“Fuck! Ow, fuck!” he cursed, glaring at the railing like he might punch it again.

Benn blew out smoke with a sigh. There was too much in there to unpack at once so he did what he was best at, took a practical approach to it.

“Right. I’ll take care of Marco, as much as anyone can”, he said, thinking fast.

He was capable of taking this neatly folded part of worry from the pile of anxiety he knew Shanks sometimes struggled with. So he would.

“Really? How?”

“I’m taking him to your cabin for tonight, so you better make sure we are not going to be bothered. Make sure Jozu and Vista know what’s up, other commanders too, or we will have a second war going on here. Don’t make too much noise about it, just tell them that Marco is taking a break for now and will join them tomorrow morning”, Benn instructed.

“Oh, and yes, I’m kicking you out of our bed and going to sleep in it with your crush, so if you are going to be difficult do it now”, he added, pinning Shanks down with a knowing glance.

“Wait - are you going to have sex with him!? At a time like this?” his captain exclaimed, looking a bit alarmed suddenly.

And just, really, his captain was ridiculous sometimes.

“No, or at least I don’t think it would do any good. It’s up to him, of course.”

“Ah, well. I wouldn’t have been difficult, anyway”, Shanks muttered, and Ben eyed him fondly.

“Good to hear. Your keys, please.”

“What? No way - use your own!”

“I will. But I know you, and you are too curious and well meaning for your own good, and Marco can’t take you barging in with an excuse of some kind. I need him to trust me, and for that I need you to trust me too”, Benn said and held out his hand expectantly.

“Aww Benn”, Shanks whined all the while he dug his keys out of his pocket and handed them to his first mate.

“Thank you. And for what it’s worth”, Benn added, “you are helping him. You saved the rest of his crew by stepping in when you did and have arranged for the funeral of his captain and little brother. You shouldn’t need me to remind you of it.”

There was unhappiness in Shanks face then, but it was hidden behind a tight smile. Too public place, Benn knew, for this conversation. But if his captain was stupid enough to start this in here, then he goddamn well should have been prepared to handle it here.

For the sake of continued goodwill between them Benn lowered his voice before speaking again, when Shanks remained silent.

“You did not fail your captain when Ace died.”

Something wild and violent flashed in the air surrounding them. Haki, uncontrolled and raw. It blew the smoke from Benn’s cigarette away like a blastwave, and then it was gone.

“ _Don’t_ ”, Shanks spoke softly.

This time Benn did sigh with no pretense of blowing out cigarette smoke. He reached out to touch his fingertips to the bruised hand, and slowly wrapped his fingers around it. He could push the matter, and they both knew that later he would, but today there was no promise of shared bed or slow intimacy after poking at still healing wounds. A certain pineapple headed wreck needed an intervention or a hug, and dealing with Shanks had to wait.

They breathed in silence, Benn waiting and Shanks radiating tension. Finally Shanks exhaled deeply and slid his hand up to grasp Benn’s hand in his.

“Just, please. He needs to rest”, Shanks said at last.

“He needs to rest”, Benn agreed and stroked his thumb soothingly on Shanks’ skin.

His captain turned to stare blankly at the sea, seeing something Benn never could and Shanks would never share. It didn’t bother him overly much, captains were supposed to see impossible dreams where others only saw water.

But first mates. First mates were supposed to look at their captains and see the entire world, so it wasn’t such a surprise that Marco’s indeed had ended.

* * *

Shanks hadn’t been alone in his observation of Marco’s poor sleeping and eating habits. The days after war had been filled with never ending tasks at best and hazy fewer dreams at worst.

Marco had been in the middle of it, organizing the scattered people with precise commands and a level head, spine made of the sort of steel only the greatest pirates of this age possessed. Benn had been right there next to him, facilitating things from their end. He had seen Marco up before sun every morning, and working away after sundown in the small hours of night.

What Benn had yet to have seen was the man taking a break beyond sitting down to console a brother in need. It was obvious to everyone that this couldn't go on for long, but right now they were short on people who had the guts to confront Marco about it.

Benn prepared for this operation like he would prepare for a battle. One needed a good strategy, trusted weapons, and fortifications to shield themselves from attacks.

So far his strategy consisted of getting the man alone in Shanks’ cabin, feeding him with soup, water, and possibly alcohol, and then pushing his head to the pillow long enough to get him to fall asleep. That in itself would be a victory hard fought, but he was also aiming for a heart to heart and tears. Possibly even hugs or cuddling.

Or a fistfight and heavy sedatives.

He really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. But it never hurt to be as prepared as one possibly could, he mused as he put together some few medical supplies in the tightly packed closet where Shanks kept their books. Spare clothing would be available too, since Marco was close enough in size to both Benn and Shanks. Fresh water not only for drinking but cleaning too. A den-den-mushi for emergencies, hidden from sight but in easy reach.

Emptying Shank’s writing desk out of any sensitive material and hiding even the letter knives Benn weighed the pros and cons of changing the bedsheets. Hunting down clean ones would be an effort, but these would likely smell of dirty pirates.

_Wait, this is stalling. I’m nervous about this, not because I am worried about failing Shanks, but because maybe I can’t help Marco, maybe no-one can. I’m not worried about him for his own sake either._

He took a breath and considered sitting down for a smoke. It would be nice, but then wasn’t avoidance of discomfort always?

_I don’t want to know if I would be the same as Marco if Shanks died._

But he already did. So this stalling had to end here, it was not useful to anyone, and he had something better to do. Folding a tea towel over a tray of food he took one last glance of the room and walked out.

Benn found the familiar yellow tuft of hair from the infirmary pouring over a stack of medical notes. The biggest rush was behind them, the number of critical patients had declined since fortunate ones were stabilized and unfortunate ones were dead. Even so, medics were swamped with work.

It was a near thing, the urgency of the room pressing at Benn, but he refused to feel bad about interrupting the work Marco was doing.

“Hey Marco, could I have a word?”

“Beckman. Come back in ten minutes, I’ll have this folder done by then”, Marco greeted him absently, not even glancing away from his work.

“I’ll wait here if you won’t mind”, Benn said mildly, itching for a smoke.

“Whatever, do as you wish.”

It really was too bad that they were in the infirmary where all recreational activities were strictly forbidden, as it was doubtful that Marco would have patience for a cigarette break. Benn settled down to wait and used his time making an observation of Marco’s current state.

On a good day, he might have fooled Benn if it weren’t for the dead giveaway of bandages wrapped carefully around still healing wounds. As far as Benn understood how devil fruit abilities worked, the phoenix should have been able to heal himself by now. Regeneration was a core element of it, even when the damage was caused under the effects of seastone. Since the cuffs were long gone, it was evident that the healing was dragged down by something else.

It was impossible to guess if Marco was actually vulnerable to things like exhaustion and starvation, but Benn had seen the man eating, drinking, and resting in the past. It made sense to assume it filled the need all living creatures shared, but it was just as likely to be due to the comfort and familiarity of the act.

Setting yourself on fire to avoid taking a nap or eating dinner did seem rather uncomfortable and dramatic. Still, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing Benn had seen sailing with Shanks.

After the promised ten minutes it was apparent that Marco would not finish the work he wanted to get done. Five minutes in he had been asked to assist with an infected gut wound that threatened the life of one of his brothers. Medical jargon, worried frowns and some blue flames later Marco looked even worse than before but he smiled tiredly and waved away any concerns from the nurse attending to the patient.

Benn had seen enough. He walked next to Marco and lowered his voice so they would not be overheard.

“Look, Marco, we really need to get the supplies sorted out today so your crew can rest before the funeral”, he said and couldn’t afford to feel guilty about how Marcos expression went blank.

“There is also something I don’t want to talk about in front of others, so we should relocate to have this talk”, he continued.

“Fine”, Marco decided, “but I have to be back here to assist the evening shift.”

* * *

“...so until Fossa and Yasopp get the teams to move supplies from docks to your ship, we have to wait before we can start ordering new shipments”, Benn concluded the report on sailing materials.

Yesterday they had gone over the expenses of funeral arrangements out of Marco’s insistence to cover all of of it out from his personal savings so today they had been able to focus on less immediate logistical decisions. It was still a necessary evil, tedious but important work that required technical and financial understanding in addition to hands on knowledge of what it took to keep a massive fleet sailing.

But for today, it was done, it had been boring, and Marco was growing suspicious.

“What is this really about? We could have gone through this stuff like we always do.”

“Shanks has been worried about one of your commanders”, Benn stated evenly.

That caught Marco’s attention fast. The man didn’t react in any tangible way, but suddenly there was less room for mistakes than before. He remained silent. Benn’s fingers itched for a cigarette.

“He won’t eat or sleep properly, he seems to be drowning himself in work and he has also been injured recently. It seems he is putting his own health at risk so that he can take care of his family, and his negligence towards himself is worrying his allies and brothers. Yes, it’s you.”

They were sitting in Shanks’ cabin, Marco on the bed and Benn on the only chair in the room, a creaky old thing that barely fit in the tiny space between the desk and the bed. It had the added benefit of being right in front of the door, blocking Marco from storming out when he stiffened and stood up to frown at Benn.

“Don't pretend to know what’s going on, you are not one of us”, he spat at Benn.

Benn very carefully didn’t rise to that particular bait, didn’t bring up the shared history of their crews, the straw hat that sat on the head of Ace’s little brother, the way Shanks had stared at the sea with blank eyes for hours and confessed that he had known Ace had been Rogers son.

“No, I’m not”, he agreed instead.

The itching had escalated to burning. Gods, what he would have done for a smoke.

“Then leave it the fuck alone, and tell your captain to leave it too.”

“I’m not one of you, so I can call you on your bullshit”, Benn placed the provocation carefully out there, with words and some steel in his voice.

It worked a little like a match catching fire, a flash of sparks and then a steady flame.

“Oh wow, if you are so fucking all knowing then go ahead. Tell me I’m not doing everything I can for my crew”, Marco challenged him with tangible anger.

The fistfight seemed to be more and more likely outcome. But he had to push, he had to get Marco to lose even a bit of that tedious, horrible, exhausting control he clung to so obviously. He had to break the outer facade in some way to get the man to let out some of that tension, and at this point the only option for that was to aim for his weak spots.

“I tell you there are faster ways to kill yourself, if you don’t have the guts to keep living even to keep alive your father’s legacy.”

That did it, it was the oil spill to the match he had lit earlier. Marco was on him in a blink, fisting his hands into Benn’s shirt and yanking him closer, snarling in his face.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, my captain just _died_ so I get to be a mess if I want to be!” Marco screamed and there was actual fire flickering blue on his shoulders now, and finally it was time to reshape what fire had melted.

“But you are not, except in the overworking and self sacrificing way. You are hurting your family by not allowing yourself to mourn and heal”, Benn told him.

He placed his own hands on top of Marco’s, holding them to his chest and willing the other man to please understand. He tried to hold Marcos gaze but was treated to Marco looking away.

“Don’t you get that I have to be strong for them, they need me to be strong now”, he said, frustration and desperation bleeding into his voice.

“I know. But I’m not one of you”, Benn returned Marco’s words back to him.

_You don’t need to be strong for me_ , he could have said, or _you can be weak in front of me and still protect your brothers from your pain_. He could have said so many things about how he understood what it was like to stand a step to the side and back of someone for years, decades even, and know on an abstract level that there would be no peaceful days of retirement for men like their captains, but that he would never be ready for the day Shanks smiled his last smile.

But he didn’t need to, as Marco heard him anyway. Benn saw him think through all of the meanings those words held and come to some sort of standstill.

“Just for tonight, take a break. If there is an emergency they will let us know, but otherwise no-one is going to bother us until tomorrow morning”, he pressed, pushed, pulled, tipped the scales for Marco with steady strength.

He could feel Marco hesitating, he could feel him fighting against himself and losing, winning, losing, struggling to allow himself this. Both wanting and hating to want it, and Benn knew he came of steady and calm but it hurt him too to see Marco like this.

“You can leave at any point if you need to”, he added, giving Marco an out he hoped the other wouldn’t take.

Finally, fight went out of Marco, leaving him with hunched shoulders and down turned head. The hands that had grabbed Benns shirt fell away and Marco just stood there, looking so lost and lonely.

“Just… for tonight, just us?”

“Yes”, Benn agreed easily and finally raised up from the chair to guide Marco to sit back down on the bed.

This time the man didn’t protest or resist, just blinked slowly and kept staring distantly at something Benn couldn’t see. But he drank when Benn pushed a glass of water to his hands, and ate when Benn gave him a bowl of soup with a spoon. He also helped Benn check the bandages around his head and upper body.

They were silent except for the few words from Benn telling Marco to turn this way or that. Marco remained silent but not entirely unresponsive, just so very distant during all of it. When finally Benn asked him if he was ready to fall asleep, Marco frowned with uncertainty and blinked back to the moment.

“No”, he said softly, biting his lip.

Benn could guess why, contemplating for the best course of action for a moment before gesturing to a few bottles sitting on a corner of Shanks’ desk.

“Can you get drunk?”

“Normally? No. Right now?” Marco smiled with his mouth but not with his heart, “Not sure until I try.”

“Sake or rum?” Benn asked, taking out two cups.

“Rum. No, fuck it, it’s not like I won’t think about him anyway. Sake always was his favourite.”

“A toast, maybe?” Benn suggested busying himself with pouring drinks, careful not to put any weight behind his words.

If Marco was ready to drink to his lost family or the time they had shared, memories of the golden days, then he had to decide that for himself. And if Marco was ready to raise a cup for future, in any way, Benn would be surprised beyond what even the New World had to offer. Still, one could dream.

“Sure, why not”, the man sighed, and when Benn turned around to hand him the cup Marco was meeting his gaze with a lot more present expression.

“To Pops, and Ace obviously. And everyone else. Tatch. To family.”

“To family”, Benn echoed.

They drank. Alcohol went down easy, it was from Shanks’ private stash that Benn had raided, after all. His captain did have a secret skill for picking out the best spirits.

“You know,” Marco began after some time spent in silence, “there was this one time when we found an island where flowers bloomed at night and all the fields were just crowded with butterflies.”

Marco’s trust hit him like a haki enforced punch in the gut. There was a tight feeling constricting his throat and Benn took a swallow of sake to hide it, humming encouragingly around the drink.

“It was back when Oden was sailing with us, and there had been this argument about whether or not he and Vista could use their swords to chop firewood. Vista claimed it was below him and Oden claimed he could do it better, so Pops decided that we would have to settle it before sailing on, so…” 

The evening dissolved into words and stories, shared memories and cups of sake passed between their hands. They settled on the bed next to each other, leaning against the curved wall of the cabin and talked about nothing and everything.

Alcohol warmed their fingers and did appear to have moderate effect on Marco. The fruit user explained it was due to the regenerating being more focused on his other injuries, going off to explain some half terrible half hilarious mishaps of trying to figure out how to get drunk after gaining his abilities. Benn ended up shaking his head fondly with an exasperated smile. It sounded worryingly similar to sailing with his own crew.

At some point there was a hand sliding to rest on his thigh, and then it rested there as a question.

_Ah._

Benn covered the hand with his own and turned to look at Marco assessingly. The other man was exhausted, grieving, under influence, obviously craving comfort. But he also looked calm and honest as he met Benn’s gaze openly.

“Are you okay enough to say yes?” Benn asked evenly.

“Ha. You, a pirate, asking me to consent. Aren’t you just a tad bit too criminal to be worried about that?”

Benn didn’t rise to the bait.

“We both know neither of us are pirates like that.”

“Hmm”, was all Marco commented on that.

And yes, they really weren’t pirates like that. Marco was attractive, available, likely also good at sex, but the timing was not ideal. When Benn had told Shanks having sex was not likely to happen, he had believed it to be true. Not because he was uninterested, but because it was too easy to go wrong with something like this.

But they were pirates, and all pirates understood what it was like to live at a place beyond what society considered normal, healthy and appropriate. If Marco wanted this, if it made him feel less alone, eased the stress or helped him settle into his own skin, if he just looked for a distraction, Benn had no more right to say no for him than he had the right to say yes.

Giving others a freedom to decide their fate was only true if you were willing to accept any answer they gave.

“I could just hold you”, Benn offered.

“No. I’m too… raw for touch like that” Marco explained, struggling with his words, “Sex.. is easier. Less intimate.”

“And something you never did share with him”, Benn guessed, and judging by Marco’s barely there finch he guessed right.

He squeezed Marco’s hand apologetically. Marco sighed.

“That too. I -”, Marco broke off swallowing hard.

He turned his face away, but Benn had already seen the open pain and longing on his face. Regret too, but mostly just a silent and private hurt.  
  


“You don’t have to say it, you know”, he added after a moment of silence from Marco.

It got a tired smile from the man, who turned back to glance at Benn and then tilted his head back.

“You really are far too patient for your own good. I think I have to”, he said staring at the ceiling.

It was Benn’s turn to hum noncommittally.

“There is no one else I could say this to, but I think you get it with how things are with him. I mean, it’s not the same but”, Marco gestured in a vague sort of way that Benn understood to mean the relationship he shared with Shanks.

They really were too alike, Marco with his feelings for his missing captain and Benn with something, _something_ , for his very alive and burning one.

“But it’s same enough and different enough. Don’t worry about offending my delicate sensibilities. A pirate, remember?” he dismissed any of Marco’s uneasiness.

“Whatever. But no, I never did have sex with him. I think I wanted to. Never said anything, since he didn’t ask or offer to. He must have known, but he was kind and cruel enough to reject me without ever bringing it up.”

“I gave him so much of myself, everything but this one stupid little thing. And he gave me the world, so it really feels unfair to be bitter about this. To be so hurt that he didn’t want me like that, that I wasn’t good enough for him. I’m hurt and relieved because I gave him all of myself but that one thing and would have given it too. Now I get to keep this part but what will I do with it if I can’t give it to him?”

“You keep it, and maybe let it grow. You are relieved too, remember?” Benn asked.

He took Marco’s hand in both of his and brought it very carefully, gently to his lips and kissed it like he had kissed Shanks’ knuckles earlier the same day. He also gathered Marco in a one armed embrace when the other one finally broke down in tears.

“Fuck, sorry. Fuck. It feels so wrong to be even a little bit happy about anything”, Marco apologized after he started to calm down from it.

He wiped his face clean with his sleeve and leaned back from Benn who waved away his words.

“Do you think he wanted to, too? But didn’t because I was already his and knew he could swallow me whole so easily? That I might forget how to be my own person?” Marco asked.

Benn hurt down to his stomach, because he didn’t know, not really, and at times he was afraid that Shanks actually did own him on a level too complete. But he knew some things, like how Whitebeard had stood with Marco by his side and simply trusted him to be there, how he had smiled at Marco when the commander had wielded orders and delegated responsibilities to his brothers like he had been born to do so.

But he knew what it was like to be loved in an unconditional way and recognize the same in others.

“Maybe. Does it matter? You were his first. His most trusted and valued one, his second in command and the one who will carry his name after he is gone. He loved you, not the extension of his own will but you, Marco”, Benn told him, and willed him to hear the truth in it.

Hearing and accepting were two different things.

“Then why the fuck is his love letter to me this mess? _I fucking hate him_ for doing this to me! If he really loved me why did he die?” Marco snapped.

There was this horribly raw and desperate emotion in Marco’s voice. Grief dressed up as anger, honesty covering itself with lies, half truths that only ever were meant to protect one by hurting others. Words that would hurt the one who said them most.

Words that we not meant to be said.

It was ugly, really, in the way bodies were after violence, but not irreparably so. Benn took it all, because he could and because Marco had to say this all to finally know he didn’t mean any of it.

“He knew you would be here to catch his body after the fall, to carry the family he left behind”, Benn started with a deep breath.

“They really are selfish creatures, captains like ours. They choose us and make us their loyal hounds, give us their ambition and love, share their dreams, fights and bread. And we are made from the start to be the ones most willing to sacrifice ourselves to protect them, only to be asked to take the lead in their stead should we fail to do our duty. But we can only die once, and if you had died protecting him, who would take care of your brothers now if he still would have sacrificed himself?”

It was unfair of him to ask Marco that, to pull his heart with things like responsibility and guilt, but it worked. Marco broke down again, this time burying his face to Benn’s shoulder all on his own, and crying with all of his body and soul.

“I miss him. I miss them all but I miss him most”, he sobbed and Benn held him.

There really wasn’t much else he could do.

* * *

Time seemed to matter very little. Benn had laid back on the bed with Marco drawn close to his chest. Time did go on, but other than the room filling slowly with less and less light there was no way to measure its passage. They drifted in the almost silence, both lost to their own thoughts.

Marco calmed down gradually, desperation in his sobs finally giving way to tiniest involuntary shakes in his breathing. And then with an exhale Marco seemed to decide he was done, shifted to meet Benn’s eyes and held his gaze with newfound calm.

“Thanks”, he simply said with his hoarse voice and swollen eyes.

“You are welcome”, Benn responded, because this was something no-one should dismiss. 

Marco seemed to be at a loss about what to do with that.

“How can you be like, be like _that_.”

Benn just smiled at him. Marco shook his head and relaxed back on the bed, wiping his face.

“Only you, really. Fuck, sorry about all the mess, though I guess it’s sort of your own damn fault.”

“No problem, I’ll make Shanks clean it up”, Benn half-joked.

“Fair, since you seem to be cleaning up after his messes”, Marco acknowledged and shifted again in the circle of Benn’s arms. ”Still, you never did give me an answer and I would not mind making something more for him to clean.”

And at this point Benn was not going to second guess Marco’s wants. He simply took his time caressing the outline of Marco’s body, his back, his side, his hip, his thigh. Marco shuddered at the touch and responded with his hands pulling Benn closer. Benn went.

They settled on their sides facing each other. It was quiet in the cabin and Benn very carefully folded away any thoughts of the world outside of the tiny room. The sheets did smell of Shanks, but otherwise they were undisturbed, and Shanks didn’t count since Benn knew he carried his captain’s will with him always, anyways.

“Kissing - yes or no?” he asked.

“Fuck yes”, Marco breathed before pulling Benn down on him.

There was something so satisfying in the way their lips met. No fireworks or butterflies, just a release of tension, or maybe transformation of it into something less static. Just skin on skin, wet slide and a tiny gasp from Marco when Benn tasted him with his tongue.

“How do you want it?” Benn asked, pulling back a fraction to look at Marco consideringly.

The other man was constantly pulling Benn to him, not pushing back up or trying to take control of this, but asking with his body for Benn to give. Something about it spoke to Benn, made him guess at things he had to affirm before acting on them.

“Don’t really care. Just don’t be gentle”, Marco said and Benn felt puzzle pieces falling into their places.

“You mean gentle as in careful or as in vanilla?” he affirmed, already guessing but needing to hear it from Marco before acting.

“Hah, either. You are not the only pirate around here.”

“Like this…?” Benn trailed off, winding his fingers into yellow hair and pulling.

There was a gasping sort of inhale-exhale-cry-moan, and Marco’s body went completely pliant, tension flowing away just like that. For a moment Benn considered how it would be like to do an actual scene with Marco, to have him on his knees. To push and pull, play pretend and play with him. Judging by tonight alone Marco would go down beautifully.

“Yes”, Marco breathed desperately and Benn let go of that particular fantasy in favor of adding a fraction of force to his grip.

“Anything else I should know?”

“I’ll tap out if I need to.”

“Good. I’m going to touch you now”, Benn promised and did just that.

He left one of his hands tangled in Marco’s hair, giving him just enough strain to tilt his head back and expose his neck. It was a great place to kiss and lick Marco and even better to bite him.

It didn’t take long for him to get Marco to pant and grind his hips against Benn’s thigh. He could feel Marco’s cock hardening in his pants and reached down with his hand to cup him through the fabric.

“Fuck, fuck, hit me, please, fuck,” Marco gasped brokenly, voice slurring slightly, words falling from his lips in a tangle of emotions he couldn’t seem to stop.

“I have to hurt, please _please_ I can’t feel good now”, he begged and the tight feeling in Benn’s chest was back with vicious intensity.

He didn’t want to hurt Marco like this, that was the line he was drawing. And since this was _his line_ , not some vaguely guessed estimation of the limits of others, he wouldn’t cross it even (especially) for a friend.

“But you can. You have my permission, so you can” he told Marco, with the gentlest of command in his voice he could manage.

He slid down on the bed to press his lips to Marco’s chest, kissed the tattoo he had avoided up to this point. Marco’s body jerked involuntarily and when Benn looked up he saw tears trickling down Marco’s cheeks.

“Ssh”, he hushed Marco, wiping the moisture away with his thumb, “you are doing so good. You are allowed to feel it all, hurt and pleasure both.”

Marco _whined_ , and Benn decided on a compromise. He pushed Marco on his back and crawled on top of the other man, letting go of his hair but restrained him down with his weight. He caught Marco’s wrists in one of his hands and pinned them to the bed above their heads. It was a bit awkward but it left him with one free hand to work open Marco’s pants and pull out his cock, to stroke him.

They were two different things after all, to dominate and to hurt. There was overlapping, of course, there were Benn’s teeth biting at Marco’s throat leaving bruises, there was the grey area some people never dared to explore, arousal and surrender that had nothing to do with romantic love but everything to do with devotion to a dead man.

“Do you need me to give you permission to come?” Benn asked, when Marco’s legs were shaking and his spine was arching off the bed.

“Yes, please, _please tell me what to do_ ”, Marco pleaded him, hips jerking forward, his cock fucking into Benn’s fist.

“I see. Breathe in, hold. Exhale. Breathe in. _Come_ ”, Benn ordered and tightened his grip to what he knew had to be almost too much.

And Marco did come. His body tensed as he covered Benn’s hand and the tight heat between them in wet spurts, gasping out a broken mantra of _thank you thank you thank you_. Benn stroked him through it until his body relaxed back on the bed in a boneless sprawl.

Benn shifted their positions again, before Marco would start to feel too uncomfortable under his weight. The blonde had gone silent and clingy, but Benn guessed it was fair given the intensity of the experience. They cuddled together for a while with Benn idly stroking through Marco’s hair until he started to feel sleep calling him.

“Are you ready to sleep now?” he murmured.

Marco’s response was a barely there nod of his head. He looked like he already was asleep despite the mess on his skin or the halfway discarded clothes. It took some maneuvering but Benn got him out of his clothes and into a clean pair of soft pants before drawing the covers on him. When he made to stand up to change, Marco let out a small sound of displeasure, trying to grab onto him.

Benn hushed him and ended up slipping into the bed behind Marco in just his boxers. It seemed that he had managed to exhaust even the immortal phoenix, as Marco cuddled close to his body and was gone in minutes.

While he was nowhere nearly as tired as Marco, Benn could feel some of the deep exhaustion resonate in his body. He suddenly missed Shanks, had this stupid wistful feeling curling in his chest like cigarette smoke, a hope that he would never ever have to share the feelings Marco was going through.

That he could be the exception to the rule, to either keep his idiot of a captain by his side or at least die before him. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, he could die for him, save him.

_What a nice fantasy_ , Benn thought and closed his eyes.

* * *

“You know those will kill you”, were Marco’s first words upon waking.

Benn took another drag of his morning cigarette and regarded Marco evaluatingly. He did look better than yesterday, even if his hair was an absolute nightmare and he was clearly in need of a shower.

“Want one?” Benn offered.

“Sure.”

Marco accepted the unlit cigarette from him and lit it up with a flick of blue. The smoke curled up and out of the narrow hatch next to the round window of the cabin. It was early still, both of them long ago used to waking up with sunrise. They were still lying on the bed next to each other, comfortable in silence.

It was borrowed time of course. But as long as the cigarette smoke drifted from their lips, it was theirs.

And when Marco stubbed out the remains of his the time was out. With a sigh he rose from the bed and began to dress up, frowning at his ruined pants and finally folding his sash on top of the most obvious stains. Benn sat up on the bed but didn’t bother standing up, until Marco was ready and standing by the door.

Marco held out his hand for Benn to shake. The gesture was oddly formal but somehow fitting, and it felt like an end to something as Benn took the offered hand in his.

“Thank you”, Marco said.

“Tell him to come in when you leave”, Benn responded simply.

Marco nodded and then he was gone, walking through the cabin door into some sort of a sunrise. The door didn’t stay open for long, but it let through smell of the sea, sounds from his crew and one red haired man.

Strangely, it felt like Benn was the one who had arrived home.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic deals heavily with grief, has self doubt issues, sex, and some alcohol usage. Marco is neglecting himself and Shanks asks Benn to do something about it, then Benn takes Marco with him to have a confrontation about it and allow him to take one night off from his responsibilities. They have a fight where Benn calls Marco out on his self destructive behavior. They talk and drink, Marco asks for sex, Benn asks if Marco is well enough to consent, they talk some more, Marco has a breakdown. After calming down Marco asks for sex again and Benn accepts, they have a short kink negotiation and then have sex. They both understand that the sex is casual and are content with being friends. One sided attraction is Marco's ambiguous crush on his captain, and it is established they never had sex or talked about Marco's feelings. Benn is implied to be in some kind of sexual or romantic relationship with Shanks but it is explicitly clear that Shanks knows and accepts Benn having sex with others than himself.


End file.
